


Felt not Spelt

by stillwaitingforaliens



Series: Arrow of Carnations [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth catches feelings, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Lots of dialogue from the game, Major Spoilers, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillwaitingforaliens/pseuds/stillwaitingforaliens
Summary: "How do you spell 'love'?" asked Piglet."You don't spell it...you feel it," answered Pooh.--A.A. MilneThe story of how Byleth attempts to ignore growing feelings towards a student while trying to solve the mysteries of her past, Garreg Mach, and the rest of Fódlan with said student.Extended/deleted scenes from the White Clouds arc. No romance, just a lot of feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

“There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single, flashing, throbbing moment.” Sarah Dessen, _The Truth About Love_

* * *

In her sixth month of teaching, seven months of Sothis around in her head, six months after her birthday, she returns to the Red Canyon, Zanado, at the behest of the pointy eared spirit. Sothis has something she wants to see, a need to investigate where she claims she was born. Byleth thinks she's being discreet in her heavy, gray wool cloak as she saddles the horse in the pre-dawn dimness and leads it quietly through the monastery gates, but a pair of sharp green eyes catch her.

The canyon is empty when she arrives. The wind is hushed, the world unnaturally still. Some snow has fallen in little drifts, making her toes cold. It’s as if no one has lived there for a hundred, no, a thousand, years, the desolation pervasive. Once upon a time, there was something, perhaps a thriving community, but Byleth has heard no mention of such. She feels on edge as Sothis continues to chatter, making a snide remark about how nervous humans are. She just continues to walk, her senses on alert, the thin layer of snow melting into the dust beneath her feet and turning it to mud.

“I seem to recall something...on the other side of that wall. I cannot see it, but I can still feel it…” Sothis says, so Byleth walks that way, one hand on the hilt of the Relic at her side. A thunderous roar rips through the valley before they reach it.

She is afraid for her life, her grasp on the divine magic within increasingly tenuous, when her students, the ones she very much didn't want involved in this affair, charge into the field with a roar of their own. Leonie deposits the tiny Lysithea on the ground before charging further into the field, powdery snow and dusty earth clouding around her mount's hooves. Raphael is a blur of movement as he gets uncomfortably (by her standards) close to the giant wolves, his fists flying into their flanks, the wolves howling in pain. Even Hilda is swinging her axe with enthusiasm, yelling with each hit, Lorenz stands behind her, using his new spells as ranged attacks to support and defend her.

They work as a team, units building and dissolving, only to be rebuilt as they move around the field, taking each creature out. All the teaching and all the drills show. Still, Flayn and Marianne overwork themselves trying to keep everyone in decent health. This is not something her students should be doing, it's beyond their level.

She's so impressed with her students and focused on the battle she doesn't see how injured Claude is until he's at her side. Blood leaks from his forehead, one wrist hangs limp, and he leans awkwardly on his bow. "That was something," he mutters and then collapses.

She doesn't know when he got this injured, so she can't go back to fix it, her powers reach back a few seconds at best, and she's already used it nearly to the point of exhaustion to protect herself. Instead, she screams and pulls his head into her lap, chanting the words of a healing spell she barely knows as she searches for his pulse. There. It’s faint to the point of being non existent, but a pulse. Flayn is at her side a moment later, bringing her own healing magic, much stronger than Byleth's.

_Please don't take him_, she prays to the goddess. _I can't lose him. Not like this, not like this. Let him stay._ He has his life ahead of him, dreams that he's mentioned in passing, the whole Leicester Alliance waiting on him.

Claude coughs and his eyes open again, peering up at the face of the professor cradling his head in her lap. "Hey, Teach." He smiles and Byleth's eyes water. He doesn't comment on the tears in her eyes, just smiles broader and quips that this demonic beast wasn't worth the name.

The tears in her eyes get closer to spilling as Claude sits up, happily talking with his excited classmates. While the rest of the class moves to pack up, he moves to her side. “Don’t worry about me, Teach. I’ll be fine.” He looks serious instead of his normal carefree self. “I promise.”

“But…”

“I know you were scared,” he says quietly. “Honestly, if I saw the same happen to you, I’d...well, I’d be scared, too. I wouldn’t want to lose my favorite professor!” He smiles at her.

“And I don’t want to lose any of my favorite students.”

“You won’t.”

* * *

Byleth tells herself that she’d feel the same if any of her students went down like that. She tells herself that she has no favorites in her class (least favorites, maybe, in that Sylvain and Lorenz spend too much time flirting, and she has to discuss other students’ complaints with them). She is an impartial teacher who does not have feelings for any of her students. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble, and then I wrote a second chapter. And then a third.  
I have not read most of the works I'm taking my chapter quotes from, fair warning. Without context, they work. In their contexts, they might not.
> 
> The whole thing started because I messed up and let Claude get to two HP while I was doing this paralogue.


	2. Chapter 2

"True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked." Erich Segal

* * *

She picks Flayn for the dance competition the next month, and isn’t surprised when learns more from Flayn during their little lessons than Flayn from her. Something tells her that Flayn has been in the world longer than she appears. Byleth finds herself practicing steps in her room, in the empty classroom, and in the library as she tries to find something about the spirits of Fódlan and, specifically, Zanado. She hums to herself as she browses the shelves, as she prepares a cup of tea, as she waits for her meals in the dining hall.

In the late hours of the night, the candle she brought with her burning low, she waltzes between the shelves and around the tables, practicing the steps Flayn taught her. Waltzes are simple, Flayn had said, difficult to mess up. There’s a fancy version from somewhere in the Empire, she doesn’t recall where, that’s faster and made only of turns, and it looks dramatic, or so Flayn said, so Byleth speeds up her steps and pivots, imagining the flair of a full skirt and dramatic sleeves. The ridiculously girly, feminine image almost makes her giggle. She’d never been someone for frills, there was no time and the mercenary life wasn’t the place.

She waltzes right into Claude (the very person who has triggered this sudden shift in her thoughts, though she'll deny it if asked).

His hands are up in the air and he’s leaning sideways in an attempt to avoid her outstretched arm. “Whoa there, professor.”

“I’m sorry.” She retracts her limbs and smooths her blouse back into place. 

“Since when did you dance?” 

“I’m just practicing. Flayn is teaching me.”

Claude blinks in disbelief. “Run that by me again. Flayn, the student you chose to represent us, is teaching you, the teacher?”

Byleth nods. “Mercenaries don’t dance.”

“I can tell. Your arms are too stiff.” He laughs. "I hope Flayn knows what she's doing."

She shuffles backwards, searching for another tome. Claude sits down casually on a table and skims his book. “What are you doing up here, anyway, Teach?”

“Research. You?”

“Same,” he drawls. “You know me, always looking for more info. I really shouldn't be here all night again, but I'm glad I came here late anyways.” He winks. He's done it a dozen times before, and this one is no different, but Byleth’s stomach flips. "But why are you here so late?"

"It's my only free time."

In the past four weeks, it seemed as if every student in the school wanted to either join her class permanently or sit in on her lectures, and several of the knights, too. Students sit three or four to a bench, knights leaning against the back wall. Her lessons have become twice as long, all the extra voices adding more questions. She hasn't had much time to herself, students and staff alike asking for her attention during and outside of class hours. She spends the free day at the end the week sparring with Catherine, doing her personal research, or, as rarely as she can get away with it, reading up on Church history at the behest of Seteth. Byleth doesn't mind the extra work and new people, but does miss the free hours she had to do things like grab a bite to eat with her students or get to know them over tea. Not to mention how much of her formerly free hours grading has now eaten into.

"Right...about that, your Deer miss you. Lysithea has been in a mood, Hilda is being extra whiny, and no one has gotten a word out of Ignatz or Marianne all week. I had to settle a fight between Lorenz and Sylvain during training yesterday.  _ Me!  _ I'm not cut out for that. Putting fruit sauce in their chairs? Yes. Salt in their coffee? Of course. That? No."

"What about the rest of you?"  The book bound in red leather with silver stamping on the spine catches her eye.

"Raph is just training more, and Leonie has been either fixing weapons or following Jeralt around, so not much of a change. The new ones don't seem as bothered."

She opens the book, thumbing through the pages. "And you?" She asks.

"You're worried about me? I'm touched, Teach."

Byleth gives him a pointed look.

"I'll be fine. Takes more than a little time away from my favorite professor to make me restless." He closes the book, and suddenly Claude is above her, sliding it back into place on the shelf. 

He leans down, just enough to remind her that he is taller, a fact that makes her feel a little wobbly in the knees, and quietly says, "Honestly, though, I do miss you. Don’t let anyone know I said that, though."

Byleth nods, acutely feeling his proximity with the motion. "Class dinner then. One night, just you original Deer; the next night, everyone." 

"Sounds good. See you then." He leaves. "Don't stay up too late, Teach!"

* * *

When she finally sleeps, she dreams of a tall dance partner with broad shoulders and messy dark hair. She chalks it up to the late night, and tamps down her growing crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Substitute a better set of pranks, I'm very bad at them.


	3. Chapter 3

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.” Markus Zusak, _ The Book Thief _

* * *

The crescent moon is but a sliver in a starry sky. A few warm days have melted all but the most stubborn snow drifts around the monastery. Still, an icy ring forms around the curve of the moon, and a few clouds litter the horizon, the chill breeze they float on indicating an upcoming snow storm.

Parties are not for her, Byleth concludes as she follows Sothis' urging to climb the Goddess Tower. Here the music is faint, and the chatter undetectable. Here, she won't be disturbed for a while as she soothes her maxed out senses. She’d been dancing for too long, non stop, passed from partner to partner with barely a chance for a reprieve. First Claude, then Sylvain, then Lorenz, then Ferdinand, and then it became a blur of different faces she can’t remember. Dehydrated, she stole off to the punch bowl, drank several cups and slipped out of the building. 

She wraps her arms around herself against the winter chill, cursing the thin material of the cloak and thinner material of the dress she wore. It was a lovely dress of gray silk crepe and chiffon, commissioned at Rhea's insistence, but the material did not have the insulating properties of her ordinary woolen cape.

Her heels click on the steps, their resonating echoes change as she emerges to find a figure already there. 

"Oh, hey, Teach. Escaping the ball too?"

Claude, outlined by the starlight, stands in the tower as if waiting for her arrival.

"I just needed a break."

"You do like your quiet, and it's very...well, it's definitely a party in there! But, really, I get it. I'm the same way."

Byleth's brow arches minutely. "I don't believe you."

He laughs, short and almost bitter. "See right through me, do you? I really do mean it, parties aren't for me. Music and fun are all well and good but those dances the nobles do are...something else." He shakes his head. "I was never really taught to do that sort of thing. My upbringing was...lacking in certain ways." 

"You said you didn’t grow up like most nobles."

"Exactly. I may have secured a fancy new title, but who I am on the inside...Well, status alone can't change that."

"A schemer through and through, then. You'll be leading the Alliance by threat of upset stomach."

"Hey! Only in the most necessary of circumstances! That's a bit of an aside, though. Say, Teach…" Claude shuffles from foot to foot, "have you heard the legends about this tower?"

Byleth shakes her head, the fluttering sensation settling in her stomach again. Sothis has gone totally quiet. 

"They say that if a man and a woman pray for the same thing here, on this night, the goddess will grant their wish without fail." His voice is hushed, the normal playful tone mellowed with seriousness.

"Why tonight?" _ And why in pairs like that? _

Byleth realizes she doesn't want the answer to that unvoiced question. The answer would likely push her further into a situation she doesn’t like to think about. It makes her feel tingly and too happy considering the trouble they’d both find themselves in.

He shrugs. "Maybe it has to do with celebrating the anniversary of the monastery's completion. Maybe the goddess comes down from above on this night, and this night alone, to celebrate with us. Even goddesses like to party, right?"

"But we don't."

He snorts in amusement and agreement. "Truth is that it's just a legend the students here like to tell. It's not based on any real facts. But I suppose it would be a waste to pass up a chance at having our wish granted." Claude steps towards her. "What do you say, Teach? Care to try?" His voice is hushed, but inviting and warm.

He's close, too close, so close she can feel his body heat radiating outwards in the chilly tower, but Byleth can't get her feet to take the step back that would keep things professional. That tingle is back and she feels nervous. It’s a different nervous than she feels before battle. "What would we pray for?" she asks quietly.

He paces for a second. "How 'bout we pray for our ambitions to come true? You don't exactly seem like the selfish type but even you must have an ambition or two."

Now, it's Byleth's turn to shrug. "Not really, a few hopes." She wants her students safety, their success. She’d like to put together the puzzle of who she is, beyond Jerralt’s daughter, because she’s clearly something or Rhea wouldn’t treat her the way she does.

"Good enough. No one is ever completely satisfied. Everyone has something their heart of hearts wishes for, something they long for. Otherwise, what's the point of it all? Of course, same goes for me. Without even realizing it, I found myself holding tight onto some pretty big ambitions." He frowns slightly. “Let’s get started. Let’s pray to the goddess before she tuckers out for the evening. Ok..here goes.” He clears his throat and beseeches the goddess for her grace. “Your turn.”

Byleth folds her hands together. “Goddess of our lands,” she begins, “help us in our lives, that we may find what we desire and have the strength to seek it. Give us what is necessary to complete these tasks.” _ And keep Claude--keep all my students--in my life. _She releases her grasp.

“Yours sounded better. But, I think that should do it. The goddess’ll make our dreams come true now, yeah?” He sounds almost flippant.

“We can only hope.” She smiles.

“At any rate, we’ve done all we can. Whether we actually believe our dreams will come true or not is up to us.” 

They stand in the quiet.

“I suppose we should head back soon. I’m sure everyone is looking for you.” He sounds resigned, reluctant to let this moment end. “Just promise to spare a dance for me. OK, Teach?”

"Hilda said dancing with someone more than once was against the rules." The distant sound of music picks up again. Byleth crosses her arms over her chest. 

"Forget the rules. I swear, so long as it’s not one of those goofy noble dances, I am a treasure on the dance floor. You didn’t get that with the last one."

“Oh?”

“I’ll prove it.” Claude reaches for her. “Damn, your hands are cold.” He grips her fingers tighter and reaches for her other hand. 

He leads her in his dance. It’s a very lively one, and Byleth finds herself nearly flying once or twice. He twirls her under his arm, spins her away and pulls her back, catches her as she stumbles forward. He raises their arms and they skip in a circle. Their legs kick, alternating left, right, left, right. Claude enjoys himself, and he smiles a wide, delighted smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, despite the exertion in his breath. She’s breathing heavily, too, and then she sees his expression and can’t help but return it

When they finish, they’re leaning on each other and the wall for support as they catch their breath, and the strains of something slower filter in through the open balcony. “I actually know how to dance to this,” she says, her hours of lessons with Flayn recognizing the tempo and beat of a waltz.

“Alright, then. One more.” He extends his hand, and she accepts. When his hand makes contact with the curve of her waist, she shivers. “Still cold?” He pulls her closer, until she’s almost pressed against him. He starts humming a tune she’s unfamiliar with and they sway to his song. 

They’re skirting very close to an edge here, and Byleth knows it. But for just this once, she throws care to the wind and goes along with her surroundings. Isn’t this what her heart wants, to hold and be held? To spend time in the arms of the person she has feelings for and that he just _ might _ reciprocate? She relaxes and lets his heat warm her up. “Claude?”

He seems lost in thought. “Hmm?” 

“You really want to make your dream into reality, don’t you?” she whispers.

“I do. I really do. I’d do just about anything for it.”

“I hope you see it through.”

“If you would...I would love for you to share in those ambitions with me.” 

_ His voice...Is he nervous _? She pulls back and his expression is soft, open. Something settles in his eyes that she can’t (more accurately, doesn’t want to) place, that little fear blocking her thoughts from going that direction. “I made a promise to you in the library. I intend to keep it. I just hope you can tell me what this dream is.”

“I will. Now isn’t the time, though, Teach.” He starts humming again.

The cathedral bells chime the hour, startling both of them. Like two identical magnet poles, they spring apart.

“You _ really _ should head back now. I’ll follow in a bit.”

With those words, he wraps everything that just transpired between them in a neat bow to be unpackaged later, but Byleth doesn’t need to be told twice. “Thank you for the dance, Duke Riegan.”

He bows. “It was a pleasure, my lady.” There’s a sincerity in his voice she rarely hears.

* * *

Their dance in the Goddess Tower is pushed into a corner of her mind the next day. 

She doesn’t get a chance to unpack what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opening quote is one of the ones that I really don't know if it fits. I couldn't get into The Book Thief.
> 
> Also, comments are like tea: they keep me happy and keep me writing.


	4. Chapter 4

“Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”--Robert Heinlein, _Stranger in a Strange Land_

* * *

Hilda finds her first, curled in her room with the diary on her lap. 

“Professor? I brought some lunch.” Hilda takes one look at Byleth’s expression and falters. “I can leave you alone, if you’d like.” 

She shakes her head, but accepts the sealed mug of soup. Hilda sits down on the other end of the bed and fidgets quietly. 

“I’m so, so, sorry Professor. I wish there was something I could do. I wish we could have done something.” 

Byleth shakes her head. "There was nothing that could be done." She knows the fact too well. She sips the soup. It’s warm and flavorful. Beef broth, plentiful vegetables, and chunks of what she assumes is venison with a good balance of spices. Hilda produces a napkin wrapped spoon from her pocket and hands it to her teacher. 

“Still...It’s just not fair!” Her bright eyes grow dark. “Is it bad that I want revenge?” 

“My father wasn’t a fan of revenge. He wouldn’t want us to pursue it. But I do think his idea of justice would require the elimination of his killer.” 

Hilda grins wickedly. “I can do that. Is there anything you need?” 

_My father back_. Byleth shakes her head no. 

“I’ll leave you alone then. Take your time. Manuela and Hannerman are covering for you for the week.” Just before she opens the door, she adds, “Claude is worried sick about you. Should I..." 

Byleth nods. 

“I’ll tell him to get his butt moving, then!” she says, almost too brightly, and shuts the door behind her. 

It takes a second to realize that Hilda _knows_, and she's the one scheming here. Hilda is far too good at reading people, able to pick out their best talents and use them to her advantage. She might come across as lazy, but she’s anything but. If left unchecked with Claude, the pair could probably take over the entire world. 

The cup of soup is empty and she’s found the entries where Jeralt describes her mother. It warms her to read of their relationship, of how much he loved her. The flowers, the gifts, the absolute adoration he writes of lets her understand just a sliver of where she came from. A part of her wants that, the sweet nothings and the gentle actions of being in love, even if she agrees with Sothis that it’s a little silly how head over heels her father was. Still, Byleth is weeping again when there’s a knock at the door. 

_Pull yourself together!_ Sothis chides, and she rubs at the tears on her cheeks. 

The door creaks open, then shuts. A somber Claude sits next to her, a bundle of forget-me-nots and daisies in his hand. “Thought I might find you here, Teach. Brought you these.” He holds out the flowers. “Hilda suggested roses, but I thought you might like something different.” 

Byleth stands and accepts them with a nod. “I do love daisies.” She places the flowers in the vase she has never had reason to use before. 

“That’s good, I guess...Anyway...what were you reading?” He looks at the open book on her bed. “Is that Jeralt’s…” His mouth falls open. 

“Love letters,” Byleth says, voice colored with a sweet sadness. “To my mother.” 

“Is it now?” His eyes twinkle. “It looks more like a diary. Hey, maybe it has some entries from when Jeralt left the monastery.” 

She sits on the bed and flips a few pages. “Here.” 

He slides closer and reads the offered page. “So...you’re twenty-one?” 

“I am.” 

“You’re actually a little older than I thought.” When she glares, he shakes his head. “I’m joking! 

“Jeralt left because of your birth. He knew something...Teach, I’m sorry, but… would you mind letting me read this?” He inclines his head. “I know how important it is to you, but I’m not asking lightly. Please, allow me to borrow it?” He meets her eyes. 

Byleth debates the idea for a long moment. She’s giving him not just her life story, but her father’s and mother’s too. He has never asked anything of her but her time, which she shares with all her students, and she wonders what could possibly make him impulsively ask for something like this. “Does this have to do with your dream?” 

“Indirectly, yes. Maybe directly. Can't know for sure until I read it." His expression is earnest. 

She nods. “Every other day? I’d like to read it too, and two heads are better than one. I promised to help you, didn’t I?” 

The smile that follows lights up his face. He glows, even if that smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. “I am forever in your debt, Teach. If you’d refused, I would’ve had to sneak in here when you weren’t around. Wasn’t looking forward to that prospect.” 

“What if I kept it with me all the time?”

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “I would have drugged your tea. Don’t worry, I’d carry you back to your room and tuck you in. 

“Anyhow, I should fill you in on what’s been going on lately. Rhea dispatched the knights in a frantic search for the enemy. There’s a rumor that she’s already secured some information. Something big is going to happen soon. That has me wondering...If you find out where the enemy is, what will you do about it? If you ask, I…” The hand Claude gestures with tightens into a fist. “No, scratch that. All of us students would gladly lend a hand. Even if that means going against Rhea’s wishes. Don’t forget it.” 

A warm feeling blossoms in her chest and Byleth starts crying. 

“Teach…” He reaches to squeeze her arm, and when she cries all the more, he puts the book on the far side of him and draws her against his shoulder. “It’ll be ok.” She cries into his jacket and he rubs circles onto her back. “Go ahead and cry. I’ll be right here as long as you need.”

* * *

(Looking back, he really meant it. He's still there next to her ten years later, as she brings their first child into the world. Right there at her side five years after that as they deal with a rebellion. Twenty, thirty, forty years and he is right there.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flowers I chose represent true love and memories (forget-me-nots) and loyalty and secrecy (daisies) in Victorian floral arrangements. Do Claude and Byleth know this? No. Is it a fun little bit to write in? Yes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not new, I did add a couple of lines to chapter 4.

“I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” Paulo Coelho, _The Alchemist_

* * *

Byleth doesn't feel her pulse quicken or her breath catch when he winks at her anymore. Claude is a fixture of her life that she relies on. He can cheer her or comfort her, and he reads her like a book. She doesn't talk about this with anyone, and the only person she would possibly ever trust to give her help is gone. Instead, she locks the feelings in a box incredibly deep inside her soul, hoping for a future where they’re allowed to explore what started in the Goddess Tower.

The cathedral after choir practice is always quiet, something Byleth wants more of since Jeralt's death, and she finds it’s the best time to pray, if she so desires. Her faith in the goddess is...complicated to say the least, ever since Rhea named the goddess as “Sothis”. If nothing else, the Sothis she knows finds it soothing to be in the side chapel that holds the statues of the saints and their reliquaries. Doing little things to keep the cathedral clean also keeps Seteth off her back regarding all the things she doesn’t know about the faith.

What amazes her is that day, Claude sneaks up behind her.

“Boo.”

She doesn’t even stutter in her dusting motions, only stops and slowly turns, one eyebrow quirked up. “I wouldn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hey, I’m full of surprises.” Claude steps to the base of the statue that Sothis happens to be floating at the top of. “So, Teach, you really believe in the goddess?”

“I guess. I really like the quiet here, though. And I like the statues, just as art. They were in rather poor shape when I first arrived.”

“Huh? You really believe in the existence of an incredible being that controls the fates of all?” He slouches against the pedestal that holds up Cethleann.

“I guess so...” Byleth shrugs.

“Not the answer I was expecting. Though honestly, I’ve recently become a bit of a believer myself. I’ve always hated the idea of praying to a god. After all, you can only really rely on yourself. I still believe that. You can’t win a war by leaving your fate in the hands of a god.”

“You’re not supposed to. The tools you need are already here. I guess you could say those are provided by the goddess, but I don’t think she just hands you a sword from the heavens. She’s not going to win a war for you, you have to help yourself. Though, I do suppose I got handed a sword.” She looks away, feeling disgusted with herself.

“How did you go from ‘I’ve never heard of the Western Church’ to that?” Claude asks, incredulous.

Byleth looks up at the girl comfy at the top of Cethleann. “I’ve spent time learning, largely to…” she stops short of saying the truth, “to get Seteth off my back about it. But the way I approach the goddess is a little different than the church.”

“I can tell that.” He chuckles. “Anyhow, I’ve always believed, and I guess you do too, that only tangible facts decide a war. Which side has the most troops, the best tactics, the better organization and planning. Of course, miracles can happen. And by that I mean things that are completely outside of your control. Things that only seem to add up if you believe in the concept of fate…Things like...” He looks over at her with a small smile, “well, like meeting you, for example.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You just seem sort of...impossible. I think everyone would agree with that.” Claude’s eyes track up to where Sothis is, and she sticks her tongue out like a child. “You can wield the Sword of the Creator, you’re a tactical genius, and you have the strange ability to earn the trust of anyone you cross paths with. Before I met you, I didn’t think it possible for anyone like you to exist. And yet, now that I know you, your presence in my life has become invaluable.” He leans closer to her, still keeping a professional distance between them, but his voice still grows quiet as he says, “In fact, it’s hard to imagine making my dream come true without your help. Because of that, I can’t believe our meeting was just a coincidence. It must have been fate.”

A few monks start preparing for evening prayer. Byleth surprises herself by asking if he’d like to go for a walk to get some tea and keep talking. When they exit the gate and start walking back to the busier parts of the monastery, he continues.

“You’re like my own little miracle. Maybe some god empathized with me and my dreams.”

“Some god?”

“I suppose it might be hard for you to grasp what I’m talking about. People all over the world have different ideas about who or what the gods are, right? Even in distant lands across the oceans or over the mountains...They have gods who see the world as a whole, who don’t care about Fódlan’s borders.” Claude has a distant look in his eyes as he looks out at the falling snow. “Who don’t meddle in our affairs. Who don’t grant life or take it away. And maybe, sometimes, they’ll make a miracle happen. A god like that, that’s the sort of god I think I could believe in.”

“I understand.” Byleth nods and opens the door to the main building so they can cut through its warmth to the classroom. “How do you know so much about all these foreign gods? I thought you grew up with a lacking education in Alliance territory?”

“I never said it was lacking, just that I didn’t learn the noble stuff. You know how the nobles love the goddess.”

They walk in silence until Claude opens the classroom door and she starts heating the water. He stands close behind her.

“I think I understand,” she starts, “because...it was hard for me to understand a goddess that only seemed to care about nobles. ‘She blessed us with our good fortune because we are faithful!’” she imitates. “Wouldn’t a goddess who cares about Fódlan care about all its people?”

Sothis’ answer of _Of course she would! I do! Ah! I'm going to take a nap!_ echoes in her head.

“Careful, Teach! Aren’t you basically part of the church now? I’d rather not have you arrested for heresy.” He grins. “If this goddess of yours exists, as you say she exists, I might actually like her. But you and the church have very different opinions.”

Byleth frowns and pours the hot water over the chamomile flowers and leaves in the ceramic pot. “I know. But I can’t shake the feeling that…”

“That there’s something the church doesn’t want us to know about. Speaking of which!” He reaches in his bag. “I believe it’s your turn.” Claude holds out the journal.

Byleth sits next to him, her fingers tracing the worn leather cover. Tears prick at her eyes again. “Any progress?”

“A little. You don’t have a heartbeat?”

“Apparently not.” She rests her hand where it should be. Nothing.

Claude’s hand lifts, then settles back to the table and traces the edge of his empty cup. “It’s just us,” she murmurs. "If you want to."

He cautiously places his hand over the upper part of her sternum.

They both sit perfectly still, perfectly quiet. When he removes his hand, he does it slowly. “Well, that’s it...Teach, you’re a monster!”

She smiles, her shoulders shake with a brief laugh, and he grins back, happy just to see her happy for a moment during what must be the most difficult part of her life.

They pour each other cups of tea and start reading. Claude writes down notes, and Byleth deciphers the more difficult portions of her father’s handwriting. They wind up missing dinner and making something out of the snacks she stashes in her desk for when she’s grading their papers.

* * *

It’s late when he walks her to her room. She tries to refuse, but he insists.

A shooting star lances across the sky and he taps her shoulder, pointing it out as it fades. Where it flew through is a constellation of his youth, and he stands behind her to indicate which stars make it up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Claude's perspective.

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” John Green, _ The Fault in Our Stars _

* * *

Nine Deer rush towards their professor, where she fights alone with whatever it is that Monica has become, until the black smoke obscures her from view.

Leonie pulls up short. “What the…?”

They gather on the edge, trying to see through it. 

_ C’mon, Teach _. The time he missed a skirmish because of a cold and she returned with a couple of deep gashes and a broken wrist comes to mind, and his heart pounds thinking about how much worse the result might be this time.

And then it’s empty, only Solon in front of them. They’re too shocked to move.

Hilda gasps. “Where did she go? Where’s the professor?”

Solon walks towards them, menacing. “She was swallowed by the darkness. An eternity wandering in the void, never to return…”

Claude steps forward, the dagger on his belt unsheathed. “You!”

Ignatz grabs one arm, Hilda the other. He tries to pull free, but Ignatz, small, timid Ignatz, shakes his head. “Claude, don’t.” The grip on both his arms tighten. Hilda’s feels like she’s trying to snap his arm clean off.

Lysithea and Flayn shout their disbelief. He adds his own quip as he relaxes his stance slightly.

Solon mocks them. “It is possible that death has yet to find your...friend.” He looks right at Claude. “But there are things worse than death. Drifting through the darkness with no chance of escape...Overwhelmed with hopelessness...loneliness...It must be torturous.” He laughs.

In his fury, Claude shakes both of his restraints. “Then she’s still alive. So, there’s only one thing to do. Defeat you while we wait for her to return!” He steps back, nocking an arrow. 

“We will avenge her!” Leonie calls.

“And I will be the one to kill you,” he says more to himself than anyone. The blood pounds in his ears. _ She’s alive. She’s gotta be alive. _

“Cute. How adorable. But if you wish for pain, I shall oblige. If you prefer it so, you shall also be added to the ranks of the dead!”

_ I might die for this. But it might bring her back. _

The thought shocks him. Until that moment, she’d been an infatuation. A nice fantasy to indulge in when needed. 

Whatever it is, it runs deeper.

Hilda’s shout distracts him. Solon has retreated, but he has brought with him new enemies, and two Demonic Beasts. Claude gives his orders. Half of the class towards the soldiers, Leonie, Lorenz, Hilda and himself towards the first beast. 

A cry rends the air, and light fills the forest. Teach returns. She’s wreathed in light, the picture of divine beauty that he imagines Ignatz’s goddess is. Her hair is changed, her eyes filled with a new fire. The Sword of the Creator glows in her hand and with a single movement, she cuts down the armored soldier in front of her.

The students cheer. Claude’s heart jumps to his throat and he can barely breathe. 

Revitalized, the Golden Deer fight their way to the platform where Solon oversees the battle. Teach destroys him. 

The students gather around her, questions spilling out all at once. 

She graces her class with one of those small, gentle smiles that are just too enchanting. “Yes, it’s me. I’d never leave you.” 

Hilda rushes in for a hug, followed by Lysithea. Before he knows it, the whole class is hugging her, a pile of happy bodies on the mossy forest floor. Even Lorenz has disregarded the risks of dirt all over his nice coat in favor of the group hug. She extends her hand towards Claude and pulls him in. 

When they finally disentangle themselves, Hilda beckons Ignatz over and they begin whispering conspiratorially, while the rest of the class starts asking questions all at once. _ What is she planning? _

“C’mon everyone, let’s head back!” Her pigtails bob with the motion, then she looks over at Claude and _ winks_. Ignatz gives him a thumbs up, trying his best to hide it against his chest. 

_ Shit. _ He never should have told Ignatz that he thought their professor was probably prettier than the goddess. Hilda...well, he probably couldn’t prevent her from putting the pieces together, but still...Has he really been that transparent? 

He gives Teach a hand up. “We won! I wasn’t quite expecting it to go as well as it did.”

“You’re a good strategist, Claude.” She holds his hand a beat longer than is strictly necessary. “It’s thanks to your idea. You’re a genius.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Teach.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. “I’ll be honest, when I lost sight of you…” he thinks back to the panic he felt, “I broke into a cold sweat.” He glances around. _ Screw it _. He wraps his arms around her, squeezing her. “Please, don’t ever do that again,” he says, voice soft and low. He steps back. “But, Jeralt’s killer is dead. All’s well that ends well.”

“That’s true.” Her face is unreadable, and she says nothing more.

Claude waits.

Teach says nothing.

He glares. “You’re not going to explain what happened? You’re kidding right? I understood putting off while we were in battle. I even understood not mentioning it around all the rest of the class. But now it’s just us, so go ahead and spit it out. The hair. Those eyes. That unfathomable power. What happened out there?” He tries to sound concerned but it mixes with his frustration.

“You get all your secrets, but I don’t get any?”

“It’s not a secret if I can see it with my own two eyes!” Claude takes a deep breath. “I just want to know you’re alright. Please.”

“I...I fused with the goddess.” She sounds like she hardly believes her own words.

His mouth drops open. “You what?”

“You might want to sit down.” Teach explains her past, her experience in that other dimension, everything Sothis had said. 

He listens, slack-jawed and shocked. 

“You mean to tell me...than an entity who claims to be the goddess was living in your mind? And it’s been that way since you were a baby? And this goddess trusted all of her power to you and then vanished?”

Teach nods. “She’s technically not gone, she’s a literal part of me now.”

“Well, that explains your religiousness.” His attempt to lighten the mood falls flat. “It’s a difficult story to swallow, Teach, but the way you look now...I guess I’ve got no choice but to believe you. But how could something like that happen?”

They look at each other. “Rhea,” they say at the same instant. 

“We’ve gotta get back to that diary.” 

“I’ll make the...homework...light this...week.” The words are barely out of her mouth before she collapses.

“Teach! What’s the matter?! Are you ok?” She looks quiet, breathing peacefully. “Wait. Are you asleep?” Claude brushes one of the locks of hair from her neck, finds the pulse he knows she has. She really does look beautiful. The new hair suits her. He runs his hands through the ends of it, and debates watching over her until she wakes up, selfishly keeping her away from everyone else.

But that won't do. Anything left in the forest, even normal animals, might attack, and if he doesn't join his classmates soon, there will be talk. Claude thinks of bringing Hilda over, but he doesn’t want to leave her alone in the woods. _ Gotta carry her myself, then. _She’s dead weight in his arms, but she doesn’t weigh too much, so he is able to catch up to the meandering group eventually. “Hilda!” he calls. 

His fellow students turn, and he shouts, “She’s fine, she’s just asleep! But my arms are pretty tired.”

Raphael lifts her from his exhausted grasp. “I’ll take care of her.” 

Hilda catches him before they enter the monastery. “I covered for you, said that as House Leader you should be the one to talk to her first. But did you really tell Ignatz you thought our professor is prettier than the goddess?”

“Yeah…”

“That was stupid. And Leonie is suspicious now. Be careful,” she warns, “Or everyone will know.”

Claude nods, his throat suddenly too dry to speak. 

* * *

One month later, he starts debating letting her know, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to use just the deer due to cut scenes and the headcanon that you don’t change houses, just change homeroom teacher so you can learn from them. Recruiting students is mostly so you can have them for the second half of the game. 
> 
> I know John Green isn’t really popular anymore, but I love that quote.


	7. Chapter 7

“There is no friendship that cares about an overheard secret.” Alexandre Dumas, _ The Three Musketeers _

* * *

Byleth debates telling her students the truth. Yes, no, yes, no. In a moment of what she calls weakness, she goes to a specific student for advice. 

“Claude, a word please?” She calls him back after she dismisses the class.

“Is this about that last test? I know I didn’t do as well as I should have, Teach, but are you really going to lecture me about it?” He’s smirking and his voice is far too carefree considering his score.

She walks across the room and shuts the door. “While that score was low, especially for you, I know why. I recommend you spend more time on your studies and less time reading about my father. But that isn’t why I asked you to stay.”

“I’m flattered. But I can’t say I feel the same way.” 

Byleth’s pulse freezes before she sees his wide, jovial grin. “You do think highly of yourself if that’s what you thought of. No, you’re here because I have to ask for your advice.”

The grin falls. “Is this about the...new look?” He leans backward against her desk.

“What caused it, yes. You know what I've told everyone, that it was a side effect of the void, but you know what really happened. The rest of the Golden Deer were there too, and I’m sure they have their suspicions. So, do I tell them the whole truth?” Byleth hops to sit on top of her desk, next to Claude.

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. They deserve it, but we both know that it puts them at risk.” She makes the hand sign they developed for indicating the church when it shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. “And I can’t exactly ask them if they accept the risks before telling them what happened.”

“I getcha. But think about it this way. We’ve already fought battle after battle with you. I’m pretty sure we’d all kill for you, and some of us have. You’re more than just our professor and mentor, you’re our leader and our friend. We all trust you to the ends of the earth.” His eyes shine, that something from their encounter in the Goddess Tower in their depths again. “We’d want to know if something is wrong, or if something has changed.”

Byleth looks absently at the classroom. “You’re right.”

He gestures with both arms outspread. “Of course I am.”

“So humble.” 

“That’s me.” He winks. “Ultimately, the decision is yours, but I know they will keep it a secret.”

“Speaking of secrets,” she reaches around on the desk to find the journal, “your turn.” 

He reaches for it. 

She pulls it back. “You know my secret, and almost as much about me as I do, thanks to this journal. If all’s fair, I get one secret of yours.”

“You’re about to tell that secret to the whole class.” He reaches for it again. 

She smacks his hand away. “Nope. Secret for a secret.” 

“C’mon, Teach…” he whines. 

“One little secret, Claude.”

“Fine. I hate cabbage.”

Byleth is surprised that he’s going along, not trying to wheedle his way out of it with his silver tongue. “Gotta do better than that.”

He meets her eyes and leans closer. “I like your hair like this better. It wasn’t bad before, but it’s amazing now. And your eyes...” he whispers, "stars above, your eyes are stunning." Words for her alone to hear. 

Her mind races. She tries to rationalize his actions, but can’t. She swears his gaze falls to her lips for a split second, and she’s incredibly thankful that the classroom door is closed. He steps back barely a breath later.

It’s not remotely close to what kind of secret she was aiming for, but she hands over the journal without another word. He pulls back. 

Byleth takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “You really think it looks good?” she asks, running her fingers through the ends of her hair. 

“Definitely. I heard the girls talking about how the shade is just so flattering on you. Sylvain’s said some things about how beautiful you look.” 

She rolls her eyes, but the blush is still on her cheeks. “He said that before.”

“And it was true.” He says it with such sincerity that she feels it in her bones, in every fiber of her being. “I’ll get going, Teach. See you tomorrow.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him.

Byleth puts her head in her hands and exhales. She puts another lock around the feelings building.

* * *

In the end, she gives her students a half-truth: the goddess granted her powers while in the void. It’s safer to leave out the part where the goddess was in her head her entire life, and even more so that she basically is the goddess now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started a [tumblr](https://writingforaliens.tumblr.com/)! It'll mostly be my writing (previews and updates), but you might catch my drawings/doodles, or hijinks from daily life.


	8. Chapter 8

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” Pablo Neruda, _100 Love Sonnets_, XVII

* * *

Byleth gathers her students around at the last second before heading to the Tomb. The less time there is for word to spread, the better. They all look concerned, but Claude is positively unsettled. The emotions flow off him in waves, not buying for a second that Rhea has no ulterior motivation.

They glance at each other more than once on the way there. He's worried for her safety, yes, but there's an anger in his eyes that makes them steely and cold. They both know what is going on, if only in bits and pieces, and it shows in his whole expression. They avoid walking next to each other, as every step makes the need for reassurance worse. Byleth takes Ignatz's hand instead and Hilda walks lock-step with Claude. The group moves closer and closer until they are a huddle behind Rhea.

The knot only begins to loosen once they reach the Tomb proper. Marianne still stands close in front of Raphael, who has one hand not quite at the ready, and the other on her shoulder.

"Are you surprised, Professor? This is the Holy Tomb. This is where the goddess who created this world was laid to rest, along with her children. It is said that our creator--the goddess Sothis--sat upon this very throne. Do you recognize it?”

"No." Byleth has already decided not to give anything away.

Rhea's brows lower. "Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt you will be gifted a revelation from the goddess."

Byleth walks the steps up to the throne, her eyes focused ahead. Behind her, Claude bites the inside corner of his mouth. The both of them are full of adrenaline, tense as Claude’s strung bow, ready to fight at the smallest sign. The rest of the Golden Deer group up farther back, a loose semi-circle of wary humans.

The professor sits on the massive stone chair. She feels tiny, dwarfed by its size. With a tentative finger she traces one edge. She has a feeling no revelation is coming. After all, she fused with Sothis, the goddess that was buried here so long ago. She thinks on the things Sothis said, trying to find a scrap of knowledge in the jibes, quips, and snark.

Minutes pass.

Nothing.

A clatter echoes through the crypt. Byleth’s eyes snap open.

The Flame Emperor, a mystery since Flayn’s kidnapping, stands in front of them. Byleth rushes down the steps. By the time she catches up with her students, they’re already speaking with the intruders.

“So they knew we were heading to the Holy Tomb and followed us here,” Lysithea says nervously.

“Is that…” Hilda asks.

“The Flame Emperor.” Claude and Byleth were expecting something, but they were expecting Rhea to pull a stunt, not an enemy appearance. “You’ve been allied with the Empire from the beginning.”

Leonie looks back at Byleth. “What are they doing here? They’re not here for you, are they?”

Claude knows the answer. “No, there’s only one goal they came here for. Right, Flame Emperor? You’re here to steal the treasure that rests here.”

“For a fool, you catch on quickly. Those Crest Stones will be ours. That infernal power, which is masquerading as medicine but is truly a poison, will plague this world no longer.”

Finally Rhea says something, and when she does, it brings no comfort to the chill settling in Byleth’s bones. "Insolence! You will atone for the sin of trampling on this holy resting place! Professor. Destroy these villainous traitors who dare dishonor our creator!”

Byleth looks at Claude, who nods and nocks an arrow to aim at the nearest of the Flame Emperor’s soldiers. What choice do they have? With an enemy that has no qualms about killing all of them, it’s self defense, not murder, right?

The battle is hard fought. They defeat the Death Knight a second time, but nearly at the cost of Lysithea’s life. The world turns black and Byleth rewinds the flow of time to step in and take the second blow that would have killed the young mage. When the group finally reaches the Flame Emperor, she worries that they might not make it out alive. She prays that, at the very least, all her students do. She rewinds time twice more to ensure it, and feels the ache in her gut that says she’s close to overdoing it.

The collective gasp when the mask falls and reveals Edelgard is followed by brittle silence.

Rhea is incensed, demanding Byleth kill this student.

A teenage girl.

Barely more than a child.

Byleth opens her mouth to object to doing the Church’s dirty work, but Edelgard speaks first.

“I have achieved my objective, and will retreat. Farewell, professor. When we meet again, it will be on the battlefield.”

She disappears in a flash of purple light.

Hours after the battle in the Tomb, after everyone was interrogated by Seteth, and she was personally berated for letting Edelgard go, Byleth opens her door with the intention of collapsing immediately. The exhaustion is incredible. The wound where a lance pierced her shoulder, bound in generous amounts of linen courtesy of Mercedes, aches and itches. She’d take that wound a hundred times more if it kept Marianne safe, though.

She doesn’t even bother lighting a candle, she just removes her cloak and begins stripping off her armor.

“Wait! Stop!”

In the faint moonlight, she can just make out the figure of…”Claude!” He’s not in much better shape, his left forearm bound and swollen from taking a fire spell. Magic can close wounds, knit bones and sinew back together, but it is not all powerful and time and herbs are still required for full healing. Guilt hits her hard as she thinks about how she should have prevented what will become a massive scar.

“Keep it down, will you? I’d rather not the whole monastery know I’m here.”

Byleth fumbles for a match and lights a small lantern. “What are you doing here?”

“When you didn’t show up for dinner, I got worried. I came to check on you.”

“The door should have been locked.” She frowns.

He grins sadly. “You really think I never learned to pick a lock, Teach?”

She rests her head in her palm. “Claude, did you think of the trouble both of us will be in?” Byleth has been deliberately avoiding anything that might cause that trouble, but he’s stepped right into it.

“Everything that's going on and that’s what you’re worried about? Rhea won’t fire you, and me? Well, worse has happened.” He shrugs.

“We’ll never get to the bottom of things if you get kicked out of the academy!”

“You’d really let them kick me out?”

Byleth sighs. “Of course not, but I’m not in control of such things.” She takes off her other bracer, then the pauldrons, and strides across the room to her trunk.

“I’ll...I’m gonna…” He turned away and screwed his eyes shut. “I should leave.”

They’ve crossed so many lines, one of biggest when he waited in her room, and she’s so tired of the confines of her armor, that she can’t bring herself to care about the one she’s leaping across. “Don’t bother, it’s just my armor. We should probably talk anyway.” With all the layers that make up her armor, he won't see anything, but she still crouches low and keeps the trunk’s lid between herself and Claude. She undoes the clasps of her armor, removes the padded undershirt, and pulls a soft shirt over her head.

When she’s sufficiently comfortable, dressed in old, worn clothing, she steps back around the trunk. His back faces her and his eyes are dutifully closed. There’s a part of her that’s tempted to sneak behind him, wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head against his back. They could both do with the physical comfort of another human.

Instead, she crosses to stand in front of him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He opens his eyes, hints of that something deep in their depths again. “I would never...I respect you too much for that.”

“So…”

“We can add more mysteries to the list. What powered that lift that got us down to the Tomb? What did Rhea actually want? Why were all the Crest Stones in there, when they’re needed to properly power the Relics?”

“I wish I had answers.” Byleth flops on the bed and winces at the pain in her shoulder. “We’re running out of time, aren’t we?”

Claude lays down next to her. “Yeah.”

“At least we’re not the only ones that think something rotten is in the church. Edelgard called it ‘poison masquerading as medicine’. What does she know that we don’t?”

“I wish I had an answer to that. If she hadn’t run off, maybe we could have asked her.”

In silence, they watch the lantern light flicker on the ceiling.

“Do you want Jeralt’s diary back?” His voice is quiet, gentle.

“Keep it for a while. See what that mind of yours puts together.”

“OK. Teach?”

“Hmm?”

He props himself up on his uninjured elbow, looking down at her. “You sure you’re alright? No revelations from the goddess?”

“None at all. And I’m fine, just incredibly tired.”

Claude stands. “Get some rest then. We can talk more later.” He extinguishes the lantern.

“Good night, Claude.”

“Good night...Teach. Sleep well.”

And like a shadow, he slips from her room and shuts the door.

* * *

She only realizes that he hesitated to call her 'Teach' when she's deep in the haze of falling asleep. She wonders what he wanted to say.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays!

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” Lao Tzu

* * *

There isn’t much time, and the short while they have disappears in joint strategy sessions between faculty and knights, extra lectures, and general preparations. The students help guide evacuation efforts for the town. Hilda, it turns out, takes one of the leadership positions, turning vague ideas into concrete plans with the skill of an expert. Byleth is pleased with this turn of events.

Claude and Shamir are asked to teach willing townsfolk archery. He spends most of his free time drilling them, filing them down to the best point he can manage in the time given. He dozes in class, but Byleth makes no comment.

Over tea one afternoon, a meeting purely for the sake of enjoying each other’s company next to a roaring fire during an unexpected cold snap, he confesses he hates what he’s doing, knowingly turning civilians into fodder for the Imperial Army. His happy facade breaks and he cries in front of her, the guilt of what he’s doing weighing heavily on his conscience. She lets him rest his head on her shoulder and rubs circles on his back as he did for her just three months ago.

The day of battle comes all too soon. Byleth is having a chat with her class when Catherine strides in. “The Imperial Army is here. Professor, are you ready?”

“Almost.”

“Hurry.” Catherine rushes off.

There’s a tense moment between the Golden Deer. Everyone knows it could be the end. Claude takes charge and rallies the rest of them. They charge off to their positions, but he stays behind.

The look on his face says it all. Regret for missed opportunities, frustration with the lack of time they had to unravel mysteries, and, deep down, the fear of what is about to come. “I wanted to talk to Rhea first, but as expected, that won't be possible. What did she hope to accomplish at the Holy Tomb? What happened to you as a baby? There are still so many things I need to know. The same goes for the real origin of the Crest Stones and the Heroes' Relics. As for Seiros and Nemesis...just how much of their mythology is true?”

She sighs. “We know so little. We had so much left to do. I wish we had more time for this.”

“Me too. But, lucky for us, I refuse to die with so much we still have to uncover.” His smile falls. “All joking aside, can we possibly survive this battle?”

Byleth looks in his eyes. He knows the truth, just like all of them. Still, it is her duty to reassure him. She’s still his professor, his elder, even if only by three short years. “We’ll find a way.”

His laugh is tense. “That's all we can do, right? If we gave up, the god of fate wouldn't be happy."

Claude takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I'm a lot of things, but I'm not the kind of man to just roll over and die in a place like this. I have my own ambitions to see to. There are things...dreams...that I must see come to fruition. And you know I want you to see those dreams realized as well. On top of all that, there are still so many secrets out there, just waiting to be uncovered. We can't let that stand, can we?”

She shakes her head. There’s a pause, no more than a breath, where they just look at each other. She takes him in, fully aware of how this might be the last time. His jacket collar, loose and out of the regulations she never bothered to enforce on her class, against the warm, deep tones of his skin. His hair, dark and thick and messy, that she has never run her fingers through. His smile, one that is true and real and just for her. His eyes, framed by such dark, thick, long lashes, such a brilliant green.

The something that she first saw in the Goddess Tower, that something she’s been so reluctant to name, appears in them again. This time, she names it: love. He loves her, as she does him.

“So, Teach... No, scratch that. You're so much more. You're my ally and my friend. Teach... Friend... None of those words quite capture what you've come to mean to me. We may not be connected by blood, but I believe our bond goes deeper than that. Now that we know each other, our hearts are connected. Even if our paths diverge and we're forced to say good-bye... I know that we'll meet again. And so, for lack of a better word, I gratefully call you my friend, and I hold fast to the belief that this isn't it for us. No matter who or what you really are, I'll always be on your side. You can't count on much in this world, but you can count on that.”

Byleth doesn’t hesitate. It may be her last chance. Even if they both survive, there will be no Officer’s Academy to return to. They’ll be on their own. There won’t be rules telling them what not to do. There will be no papers to grade impartially, no class to have no favorites in. It won’t matter any more.

In one step she crosses the distance between them and embraces him.

He squeezes her back, arms tight against her shoulders. He buries his face in her hair. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

She nods against his shoulder.

A shout outside the hall tells them their time is up.

“I’ll see you on the other side...Byleth.”

* * *

It’s the first time--and the last--she hears him say her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the illustration for this chapter doesn't load, it can be found [here](https://imgur.com/a/PvjD0jO).  
There will be more _Arrow of Carnations_ after the holidays, but I have some flash fic works in the cooker to post in between.
> 
> Follow me on [my tumblr](https://writingforaliens.tumblr.com/) if you want my rambles, writing previews, and other such hijinks.


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